


Truths and Realities

by pi314159geek



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, Belle actually has character development from being in long-term solitary confinement, Did I mention angst, Episode AU: s01e12 Skin Deep, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Imprisonment, Post-Episode: s01e12 Skin Deep, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:33:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 3,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24974644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pi314159geek/pseuds/pi314159geek
Summary: During her long-term imprisonment by Regina, Belle remembers Rumplestiltskin and Avonlea and the life she used to know. Basically explores the emotional damage that Regina inflicted, which the show didn't bother to cover. AU happy ending though!Trigger warning for suicidal thoughts.
Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold
Comments: 5
Kudos: 21





	1. Chapter One

~ **DAY ONE** ~

Sitting up on her hard pallet at the far side of the cell, Belle met the Queen's gaze evenly. "He loves me. And I love him -- something _you_ will never understand. He will come for me." She sat back and nodded, satisfied with herself.

The Queen only smiled that horrible smile, painted bloodred lips curling upwards. "We shall see." Instead of teleporting out as Belle knew she could, the Queen strode to her cell door, stepped outside, then slammed it behind her with a clang. The last thing that Belle saw before the barred wooden door sealed off her freedom was that awful, spite-filled smirk.

Being shut away from the world so thoroughly was horrible, and boring, and terrifying. She was truly terrified at the prospect that she would live out the remainder of her days in this tiny stone room, that no one would know she was there, that no one would even give her a proper burial, perhaps see that she was laid to rest beside her father. The Queen really didn't seem the type to grant her prisoners' dying requests.

But a glimmer of hope told her that maybe Rumplestiltskin had been acting. She knew that he feigned disinterest to protect the people and things he cared about. Belle smiled ruefully, thinking of her time as Maleficent's captive, how he'd claimed not to care for her even as his actions said the opposite. That had to be it! Regina had simply read him wrong, and Rumple really did intend to come for her. Just as soon as he could figure out where she was...

Then it hit her. How could she have been so stupid?

"Rumplestiltskin!" she called, laughing aloud in delight. "Rumplestiltskin, I summon thee!" She waited for the showy puff of smoke, or for the more subtle fizzle of magic that accompanied all of Rumple's magical appearances.

"Rumplestiltskin?" she repeated tentatively. She repeated his name twice more just to hit the required three times, but that really shouldn't be needed...

She imagined him appearing in her cell, holding her in his arms, taking her back to his castle to forever protect her from Regina. She remembered the comforting crackle of the fire at the end of the great hall, the squeak of Rumplestiltskin's spinning wheel that he never oiled (not even by magic) the deep mahogany and rich gold shades of her room in his castle...

And then she opened her eyes and it all disappeared.

And Rumplestiltskin wasn't there.


	2. Chapter Two

**~DAY SEVENTEEN~**

Belle curled into herself on the hard stone ledge, trying to remember some of the things she'd read in her books on the human mind. The way to pierce through these mental hazes of hers was to latch onto something real, something she knew to be true. Making up a mantra of truths helped, verbalizing things that were real.

_My name is Belle. I was the Lady of the Marchlands, after which point I served as Rumplestiltskin's maid. And became his True Love. Now, I am in the Evil Queen's prison. Rumplestiltskin is out there and he knows I'm in trouble. He knows I love him. He will come for me._

On further consideration, she removed the last sentence from her mantra.

And the second-to-last one.

She was even starting to doubt the third-to-last one, come to think of it.

The Queen might have been lying. Maybe Rumplestiltskin didn't know of her plight.

But that possibility was too horrible to imagine, so Belle kept the third-to-last sentence intact.

She grabbed the sharp piece of stone and scribbled another mark.


	3. Chapter Three

**~DAY THIRTY-NINE~**

_My name is Belle. I was the Lady of the Marchlands and Princess of Avonlea, after which point I served as Rumplestiltskin's maid_ —

The Queen strode into her cell, and the first thing she noticed were the tally marks Belle had been scratching into the walls.

Belle had been inspecting the foundation stones of the tower room, searching for any structural weaknesses, so it was fortunate that her captor had decided to use the door that time. It gave Belle enough advance warning to pretend she had been leaning casually against the near wall of the tower.

"What's this?" the Queen asked, apparently amused as she inspected the handful of tally marks on the wall.

"What's it look like?" Belle snarled back. She might be a prisoner, but it took more than that to crush her pride.

"To me?" The Queen turned, smirking. "To me, it looks like a connection to the outside world. The passage of time."

"They're just marks," Belle said, hating how much she sounded like a sullen child.

"You should address your queen properly, commoner!" and Belle had _severely_ misjudged the Queen's temper today. Without warning, Regina whirled about to face Belle, and a torrent of magic lashed out. Her magic was different from Rumplestiltskin's; it was far more volatile, dangerous, crackling with nervous energy that lashed out at anything that came near it.

The spell hoisted Belle into the air, high enough that her head was nearly level with the ledge of the high tower window. Oddly enough, the magic wasn't choking her.

Then the Queen really got started, and Belle thought she might have preferred the choking.

Her own screams echoed off the tower walls, so loud in the small room that it felt like the noise was piercing her skull.

"Well, they're just _marks_ ," the Queen sneered, dropping her carelessly on the floor.

The last thing Belle could see — or thought she saw, her vision blurred as it was with pain — was the Evil Queen picking up the sharp stone she'd used to mark the days, eyeing it disdainfully, and casually crushing it to dust between those cruel, long-nailed fingers.


	4. Chapter Four

**~DAY FIFTY-FOUR~**

Belle opened her eyes and groaned into her pallet. She'd had to sleep on her front ever since the Queen had begun hurting her, and she preferred to stay unconscious just to escape the pain. More than that, it helped her escape the numbing dread that time was creeping ever onward, and that Rumplestiltskin still had not come for her.

Her mind was so blurred that _thinking_ didn't really help anything. So she mumbled the words aloud instead.

"My name is Belle," she muttered, and had to stop for breath. That led to her gasping in pain, as the sharp inhalation aggravated the open wounds on her back. "I was the Lady of the Marchlands," she continued resolutely, "then I became Rumplestiltskin's maid and then his True Love. I'm in the Evil Queen's prison. Rumple is out there and he knows I'm in trouble."

"I assure you, my dear, even if that were true, he doesn't care enough to come."

Belle didn't know if that thought came from the Queen or from herself.

Her eyes drifted open to focus on the stones around the base of the cell. She couldn't tell the time of day. Those stones were never illuminated by the rays streaming through the high window no matter where the sun was in the sky.

But today, those stones were different. Today, there were markings carved into them.

Not her tally marks, which she hadn't been able to make for quite some time, but runes. Magical runes. Although the runes were freshly carved, the language itself was old — so old that Belle couldn't interpret it, nor even chance a guess at a related language.

Well, that was new. And odd. She supposed the Queen might have come in here while she was unconscious (and wasn't _that_ an unsettling thought) to create those runes.

They reminded her of the strange markings on the objects she'd dusted in Rumplestiltskin's collection — and no, she couldn't follow that train of thought any longer. It was too painful.

 _He really is done with you_ , she thought to herself. She no longer called that voice as _cruel_ or _harsh_ ; it was simply _right_.

Is that what doing the brave thing got her? Being used as a chess piece in a war between the Dark One and the Evil Queen? And apparently, she was no more than an easily-replaceable, forgotten pawn in their conflict. Would she waste away here, surviving on nothing but the hope that one day Rumplestiltskin might have an attack of conscience and come for her?

But a glimmer of hope that refused to die said that Regina was in the midst of a civil war. The Marchlands were a strategically valuable location -- critical to the war Regina would be fighting, if Belle remembered her maps correctly. Perhaps Regina might accidentally let something slip in her dealings with Sir Maurice. Even if Rumplestiltskin didn't care to come, her father might learn of her plight soon. Then Rumple would no longer be her only potential rescuer.

_They love me. At least, my father loves me. One of them will come for me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, I think, is where Belle begins to lose her idealism. She's hurting both mentally and physically, thanks to the Evil Queen. Especially for an intellectually-driven person like Belle, I think it would really kill her to not even know how much time has passed.
> 
> Kudos and comments are bright spots in a writer's life; thanks, Joylee, for your feedback on the previous chapter!


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Suicidal thoughts concentrated here. Though it's been only a couple of months, to Belle it feels a lot longer. I don't think her moral ideals are truly destroyed, but I think that the intellectual part of her is starting to think, "Maybe it's time to check out."

**~DAY SEVENTY-SEVEN~**

The days blur together. Belle has no idea how long she's been confined inside the same four walls.

She knows that the wounds Regina inflicts are the least of her problems. Regina would never let her die from these injuries, not while she (apparently) thinks that Belle can still be used as a bargaining chip. A small one, she supposes, since Rumple hasn't rescued her after gods know how many days. But a bargaining chip nonetheless.

Belle recalls the last time she was used as leverage against Rumplestiltskin. Threatening to kill her _might_ work, but only if Regina wants something relatively insignificant to Rumple. Like the stupid gauntlet that Maleficent and her friends were after. She snorts at the thought.

But there are ways to die that Regina probably hasn't thought of. Or doesn't pay enough attention to notice, if Belle tried them.

She wonders how long she has before she dies from malnutrition. If she's being honest, she's not entirely sure what she's even eating -- some kind of gruel, but made from no grain she's tasted in the Marchlands. She has no idea what kinds of nutrients she's been getting.

Outright starvation takes too long. Belle shivers at the idea.

Sometimes, she studies the torches burning outside her cell door and wonders how quick of a death fire could give her. _Bad way to go_ , she remembers Rumple commenting once, as dispassionate as a scientist remarking on the pulse of a human heart.

She hates herself for coming up with that analogy. Rumple knows nothing about the human heart.

In any case, she'll take that advice from him. It won't be fire.

There's no way she can climb to reach the tower window, even if she weren't bleeding from several places on her back and legs at the moment.

What she does know is that the human body can't go long without water. If she doesn't touch the small cups of filthy water that accompany her meals, it would only take a few days before she could escape this tower. In a manner of speaking.

She tries to distract herself with the usual method. _My name is Belle. I was the Lady of the Marchlands, after which point I served as Rumplestiltskin's maid. And became his True Love. Now, I am in the Evil Queen's prison. Rumplestiltskin is out there and he knows I'm in trouble._

She needs something else to fill her days with. She's repeated that mantra so many times that it has no meaning for her.

 _Neither does your life, anymore_ , the voice in her head points out.


	6. Chapter Six

**_~Later that day~_ **

She's asleep when the man breaks into her cell. She doesn't even consider the possibility that Rumplestiltskin sent him; the time for that is long past. No, it seems, Regina has finally realized that Belle is a negligible bargaining chip, and one whose value has only depreciated with time. The Queen won't even handle a messy job herself, it seems.

But no, the black-clad stranger is not here to kill her.

A small part of her heart sinks at that revelation.

Then she's horrified at her own disappointment.

As it turns out, the stranger wants the one thing that can pull her out of this haze of pain and passing time. He wants to kill Rumplestiltskin, and she cannot, _will not_ , let him do that. She will not abandon her Rumple, will not let this stranger kill him, even if Rumple seems content to let the Evil Queen do the same to her...

"On second thought," the man says. "I'm not here to rescue you."

Belle's stomach drops. For a split, guilty second, she thinks she should have told what she knows about the legend of the Dark One's dagger.

But it's too late. There's a clatter of metal on stone, and then the man's fist flies towards her. She wishes it were the hook, instead. The pointy end, ideally.

Everything goes black.

Her last conscious thought is that she's glad she didn't betray Rumplestiltskin.


	7. Chapter Seven

**~DAY SEVENTY-NINE~**

The black-clad stranger has left her with a nasty black eye and an impression that the world is naught but a spinning haze of black and gray. And red, sometimes.

Or perhaps that's just the dehydration. The metal cups aren't filled high enough for her to slurp water from them, and she's been unable to sit up without being overcome by the dizziness. She's not sure how long it's been since she's been able to drink properly.

_Not long enough to die from dehydration, anyhow_ , she thinks morbidly.

In any case, the wounds inflicted by both the Queen and the pirate have healed up well enough that she can (very tentatively) get back on her feet. It's a welcome change from dragging herself across the floor to reach the trays of food and water at her cell door.

Her mind is clear enough that thinking the words suffices now. _My name is Belle. I was the Lady of the Marchlands, after which point I served as Rumplestiltskin's maid. And became his True Love. Now, I am in the Evil Queen's prison. Rumplestiltskin is out there and he knows I'm in trouble._

She has to use small steps, keep her elbows close to her body and her eyes trained on the floor in front of her for balance. But she makes her way to the place in the tower where the sunlight streams through. It comes through the high window for a preciously small amount of time each day, about an hour around high noon. With her newfound mobility, Belle isn't going to miss a second of sunlight.

_It's almost spring, we should let some light in_ , she hears herself saying, and blinks back tears.

"And how is my honored guest today?"

After months of living with Rumplestiltskin, Belle had learned to not jump or shriek at the sudden appearance of a person in the room. With some satisfaction, she notes that the Queen looks rather put out at Belle's lack of a reaction.

She thought she might need to control her mouthiness better, but she's learned that that isn't what causes the Queen to hurt her. Based on what she's picked out of the Queen's rants, it seems like she becomes the target of Regina's rage every time Rumplestiltskin gets the better of her. Which is unfortunately frequently.

_Not my fault he's better at this game than you are_ , she thinks, but she doesn't want the empty satisfaction that brings her. She just wants everything — the pain and the silence and the solitude and the nothingness — to stop.

Belle gathers her strength to level a retort. "If I'm an honored guest, I can't imagine how you treat your regular guests."

Regina laughs. "I treat each guest as they deserve, of course!" Cruel eyes narrow at Belle, waiting for the point to slide home.

Belle doesn't blink, so the Queen rolls her eyes and abandons the insult. "Fine. I merely thought you'd be interested in" -- she stops to take a dramatic gasp -- "a certain guest that I entertained today."

_Rumplestiltskin. My father._ Both possibilities shoot through her mind almost simultaneously.

"Who?" she asks, not bothering to pretend she isn't curious.

"Why, Rumplestiltskin, of course," the Queen replies, giving an elegant head-wobble with an eye-roll that Belle knows she learned from Rumplestiltskin.

Belle keeps her mouth firmly shut, not wanting to let slip any details about herself or Rumple. "And?" she asks neutrally.

"Didn't even mention you, my dear," the Queen purrs. "I'd say he's moved on." Then she dons a sickly-sweet smile that literally sends chills down Belle's spine. "And even if he were to look for you — maybe he had trouble getting a new girl after your tragic...death at the hands of your father?"

Belle starts, immediately regretting it when the motion makes her head spin all over again. Her unfocused, confused eyes snap up to meet the Queen's.

"Oops," Regina says delicately, placing a hand over her mouth, and Belle has the sudden urge to shake her by the shoulders until Regina tells her _exactly_ what she's done. Being able to magically choke answers out of someone would be an excellent power to have at the moment, she thinks, remembering how effectively that had worked on Maleficent.

"What are you talking about? What exactly did you tell him?" Belle demands, and it feels so good to be angry, to shout, to scream. "Where does he think I am?"

The Evil Queen struts around and lowers her head to meet Belle's eyes. She really is rather intimidating, but Belle doesn't waver.

The woman's next four words seal her fate.

"Dead in a grave," the Queen says ominously.

Belle can't breathe, and her cell has suddenly become a lot colder.

"Of course," the Queen says, stepping back and breaking the intense staredown, "I wasn't completely lying. You are rather -- dead to the world, at the moment," she laughs aloud, "and, well, this place might very well be your grave."

The Queen steps around Belle, looking her up and down. Belle knows that the sunlight must be illuminating her pale frame at the moment. "Oh, but graves are supposed to be dark, I forgot," the Queen continues. "Having windows rather defeats the purpose, doesn't it?"

And with a wave of her hand, the only window in the tower closes off like it was never there.

At the same time, all the torches disappear in plumes of purple smoke, plunging the room into darkness.

"No!" Belle is pretty sure that horrible scream came from her throat, anyway. It's certainly not the Queen's.

There's a tingle of magic to her left, and a self-satisfied laugh echoed in her pitch-black cell.

Finally, Belle collapses to the floor and lets herself sob for the first time since her imprisonment.


	8. Chapter Eight

**~DAY EIGHTY-TWO~**

She's racked her brains, attempted to translate the runes around her cell door, tried everything she can think of, and this is really her last hope.

_Whoever my family's patron fairy is, please listen to me now. I wish for a way to contact the outside world_ , Belle thinks determinedly at the stars she cannot see, through the window that no longer exists. (She knows magic is emotion, but does sheer willpower or desperation count for anything?) _I wish to talk to my father, or Rumplestiltskin — no, not Rumplestiltskin_ , she revises her previous wish. Rumplestiltskin hated fairies. He would blast any fairy that came near his castle into oblivion.

How silly of her to forget that.

She remembers a time when she was still a scared young woman, the loss of her father and her home still a fresh wound, and Rumplestiltskin had found her gazing up at the stars through her cell window. _There'll be no wishing upon a star here, dearie_ , he'd mocked. (That wasn't what Belle had been doing, but she'd been too grief-stricken to bother correcting him). _F_ _airies don't dare come here. Not to my castle._

Given Rumplestiltskin's history with fairies, she she knows that wasn't a false boast.

Then she remembers. Rumplestiltskin taught Regina. Regina would have the same anti-fairy wards put up around her palace.

_There'll be no wishing upon a star here_.

She will never leave this place.

_I wish..._

She gets up and shuffles away from the stone ledge, trying to take some small comfort in her renewed freedom of movement. _The one good thing that stranger did for me_ , she thinks cynically. Regina, careless as she is, didn't bother to re-chain her after the stranger came and —

Unlocked her shackles. The stranger had unlocked her shackles. He'd had the keys.

But did he take them with him?

Slowly, careful to not stretch out the still-healing wounds on her back, Belle moves towards the stone ledge where she'd lain that morning, then kneels and runs her hands across the cold stone floor.

And under the ledge, her hands touch several pieces of cold metal. Not her shackles, but smaller, thinner pieces of metal that swing freely and clink quietly against one other. They're bronze-colored, if she recalls correctly, but it doesn't matter what they're made of. This is her way out.

Belle smiles, really smiles, for the first time since her imprisonment in the windowless cell.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! The very short chapters are a new stylistic thing that I'm trying out here.
> 
> Kudos and comments give me life :)


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